


Cling Close To Me

by praeliatis (untilpeace_thestorm)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Big Damn Heroes, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Multi, POV Multiple, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reconciliation, Spoilers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untilpeace_thestorm/pseuds/praeliatis
Summary: After the worst possible outcome, after all of their human weaknesses, the rifts that had set them adrift, sent them sprawling in all directions...it is time to make amends. Heroes keep digging even when there's no light at the end of the tunnel. But these heroes need something if they're going to do anything other than survive, than go through the motions.In order to do more -- in order to live -- they need each other.





	1. Tony

_Cursed with knowledge_.

Tony doesn't feel cursed with anything but defeat. Failure. It happened. His worst nightmare -- he failed everyone he cared about and now he's gone and _survived_.

He can't summon up the energy to be furious with Strange at the moment. Stephen. Not when the man ( _wizard…doctor…_ ) has crumbled in front of him. He can't summon up the energy to do anything, not even to brush away the remnants of the boy who's died in his arms, desperate and afraid and apologizing.

God, _Peter_. What has he done?

It's a long time before he senses movement nearby and he remembers that there is one other survivor on this rotted core of a planet. The blue woman-cum-android whose name he doesn’t know. Tony doesn't look up at her when she steps around to him, wanting to do anything but talk, wanting to die.

Feeling a little like he is.

"Your wound will open again."

Her tone is dispassionate and Tony barely registers her words. Of course he's dying. Thanos punctured right through him before Strange had traded the stone for his worthless life. That seemed appropriate, didn't it? Shouldn't he just die? Couldn't he?

He finds it so hard to think at the moment, which isn’t a first, but it’s certainly unusual. _Usually_ he can’t shut off the brain. Right now it’s stuttered to nothing.

The woman doesn't seem fazed by his lack of response, pacing ahead to survey the area. He doesn't know what she is looking at; there is nothing and no one here. The planet is a wasteland and Tony manages a brief, bitter thought about that, about his first trip into space and how his futurist ideals seem so empty now, surrounded by nothing but dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story's been mulling around in my head for the last month. I've got to get it out here. It'll be a lot of shifting perspectives for a bit while we catch up to where everyone is. Later, it will likely focus in a bit more on the issues between the team, particularly Tony and Steve. 
> 
> Consider this a little speculation on What Comes Next and how the team might get back to a little emotional cohesion before they're able to go another round.


	2. Bruce

"We have to assess our losses."

Bruce is as surprised as everyone whose heads turn to him at his words. He wouldn't have thought out of all of them -- captains and generals and colonels and spies and gods -- he'd be the first to, well, not to recover, but to speak. To work through unimaginable grief toward the practical.

But maybe it makes sense. His rational brain explains it as compartmentalization and sure, he is a civilian through and through, despite the monster inside him and all his previous _Avenging_. But he has also come straight out of another genocide, straight out of captivity, straight out of space and a universe too wide…all as an observer, more or less.

Maybe it helps him in a situation like this.

Or maybe it doesn't matter why. Maybe it just has to be someone.

"This -- this is catastrophic, Steve. On a, uh, a logistical level. Around the world. It's gonna be chaos."

He hopes he doesn't sound too callous. He hopes Steve understands what he's trying to do, trying to get everyone to consider. The horrors they’ve just witnessed — their only relief, if it can be called that, is the fact they _know_ what’s happened. The rest of the world doesn’t have that luxury.

"He's right. We've got to check in with -- with everybody."

It's Nat speaking instead of Steve Rogers -- who remains despondent, still sitting there beside Vision's lifeless and gray body -- and Bruce somehow finds it easier to look at her now after all of this than before. He wonders briefly what that means, but only gives her a silent nod before another voice chimes in.

"I must find my prin -- I have to find Shuri."

It's General Okoye rising now, who looks like she's just swallowed a century's worth of pain and simultaneously as though she is prepared to suffer more. She looks around at them all.

"Wakanda has resources. Surveillance equipment. Transport."

Bruce doesn't voice what must be on everyone's mind -- that that would be incredible, that this insanely advanced country was well-equipped, by his observations, to do just that, to look over the world, but that it had also suffered absurd losses, both on the battlefield and now, with...this.

Was Princess (Queen? Was that how that worked?) Shuri even alive?

"I, too, will help you regroup."

The Asgardian's deep tones are laced with the newfound authority he's acquired since Sakaar, the one that totally lacks arrogance. Bruce finds that he feels very safe around the god of thunder now, more at ease. He eyes the new axe in his hand and makes a mental note to ask his friend about it, along with how he'd managed to survive.

Later.

"My suit's working," Colonel Rhodes pipes up, stepping heavily over to the rest of the group. "I can give us eyes in the sky, over the field at least. For now."

"Thor, can I come with you?"

It's the raccoon speaking and Bruce feels no surprise about the talking animal, not with everything he's seen already. He senses Nat's wariness, and maybe even some from Rhodey, but neither say anything.

"I am not certain yet where I am needed."

"Doesn't matter."

Bruce understands. Whoever this raccoon is, he's seen Thor in action and he trusts him.

"Right."

Steve slowly rises from the ground and all eyes turn to him. Bruce sees more than age in the timeless soldier and it's clear to him now how much has weighed on him for so long. He wishes he could understand what had happened -- what had fractured the Avengers so deeply that Tony had looked panicked — scared, even — when he'd told him to call the man, his friend.

Oh God, Tony. Where was he?

"Let's get ourselves and Wakanda situated. We owe everyone here that much," Steve exchanges a look with Okoye, who nods stoically. "Rhodey, take Nat and the general back up to the palace. You two can set up a base while Rhodey goes out to the field, focus on anyone who needs medical and bring them in. Banner --"

Bruce looks at him expectantly, shifting inside of the enormous Hulkbuster.

"Is that something you can help with too? How's your armor?"

"I'd feel a lot more comfortable on my own feet," he admits. Steve nods reassuringly before turning toward the raccoon.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get your name. I'm Steve Rogers."

The raccoon blinks at him, apparently confused before his expression tightens and he shrugs.

"Name's Rocket."

"I wish we could meet under better circumstances, Rocket. You seem like you know your way around weapons and tech."

A quick glance around shows Bruce he is not the only one amazed by Steve's intuitive and everpresent politeness.

"If you're up for it, we could really use you and Thor to help us reach the people who aren't here."

Bruce thinks that's a good idea and one he hasn't considered himself. It feels like everyone else seems reassured too. He imagines Nat wants to check on Clint, that Rhodey has his own people. He has no one, but finds himself itching to reach out to Pepper.

Rocket looks over at Thor and shrugs again, but there's a nod there too. Thor looks at Steve.

"Do you think it wise for non-humans to travel the Earth in this moment?"

Steve shakes his head. "Probably not. But the world knows you and has...a lot else to be worrying about. I was hoping Rocket might handle the comms. If -- I just feel we're going to have a lot of issues on that front. Satellites down. That kind of thing."

Steve narrowly avoids putting a name to the disaster they are experiencing. The slowly thawing atmosphere of their circle in the woods tenses again until Bruce inadvertently grunts too loudly.

He's trying to escape the Hulkbuster armor and it won't let him out as he scrapes ineffectively at the metal hinges. Bruce can feel his face redden with his embarrassment, but it takes no time at all before Rhodey, Nat, and Thor are all at his side, anchoring the damn suit and prying it open. He gracelessly falls out of it, rolling to the ground where Nat stops him with her foot, but he's never cared much about appearances.

"Let's get to work."

Bruce thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on Captain America's face before he motions for everyone to get moving.


	3. Nebula

The man wearing broken nano-tech is drinking from the cup she's found for him.

Nebula understands his name is Stark, that he is Terran and had traveled with the child (his son?) and the magical one to Titan. She's glad he seems less catatonic now because she has been uncertain how to deal with a dying creature that would not move.

She watches him watch her while trying to adjust her arm, considering what her options are now that her father has actually carried his plan through. Has actually killed Gamora and obliterated half the universe.

She wants Thanos to suffer indefinitely.

The sound of metal touching metal interrupts her thoughts as Stark sets the cup down and struggles to stand, clutching his side. His eyes are strangely bright and she wonders if he might attack her, whether he is such a brash, emotional fool like Quill, if that is simply a Terran trait.

"Can I see?"

She must be more affected than she thought by the battle because it startles her just a little to see Stark suddenly so close, his attention so focused. His tone, too, is gentler than she expects, his voice rough, dry. He indicates the mechanism failing inexplicably to hinge her arm.

Nebula is uncertain what he means, but allows Stark to touch. She is not precious about her body and knows it would not take much to kill him if she needs to do so.

"Didn't catch your name, during all that," Stark muses at her while he handles the gear. Nebula scrutinizes him closely, but decides to answer.

"Nebula."

She feels something lock into place, more smoothly than she'd been able to get before getting hurled away by her father. She doesn't intend to thank Stark, but she is surprised by the gesture and his technical know-how.

"I thought Terrans were primitive."

"Oh, we are," Stark assures her, his tone carrying that deceptive lightness she knew how to identify, but not to understand. "Ill-equipped. Not ready for the big leagues. Red carpet. Met Galas. All of that."

"You speak nonsense."

"English, actually. But I'd guess you wouldn't know that. You all wear some kind of translators, don't you? Input and output."

He stands back a little, his head tilted with that same focused look directed her way, at the base of her neck and the implant below her ear. She realizes -- her readings are telling her -- he is burning out very quickly, that this sudden energy was a distraction, a last gasp.

"Everyone does," she confirms to him before continuing, "You will not last an hour if we do not find some sort of medical kit. And sustenance. Perhaps on the Guardian's ship."

“Great. While we stowaway, you can fill me in on these Guardians. What they are to you. What you are. You know, the works. I’d ask for a file, but..."

He shrugs like even he doesn’t care for what he’s saying. It’s an abrupt change. Nebula doesn't know how to read this Terran, whose suddenly light and demanding nature is at odds with the broken and dying man he'd just been.

"I am a daughter of Thanos."

"Like Gamora."

"Yes."

There is a brief moment before something changes again in Stark's eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Nebula's expression tightens and eases before she offers a response.

"I am sorry for yours, too."


	4. Natasha

Natasha lets the door close audibly behind her, watching her normally unflappable partner tense before he turns to look at her.

"I told Bruce to meet us in here when he has the chance."

"Good. That's...good."

Steve sighs heavily, crossing over from the bathroom to stand at the tall, floor to ceiling window. Natasha watches him for a moment before she moves slowly to stand beside him.

There is a moment before Steve seems to remember something.

"How is...everything with him, by the way?"

"I don't think it's a subject either of us deem necessary to discuss right now."

Natasha is prepared for that question, prepared for Steve's concern and interest. But her attachment to Bruce Banner, her feelings upon seeing him again, alive and well after all this time...in the face of this disaster, seem small.

Her feelings felt small.

"I wouldn't assume he feels the same way about that," is all Steve says.

"What's the last you've heard from Thor?"

Changing the subject seems best.

"Rocket checked in, said he couldn't locate Lang but that Thor was headed to New York for Pepper, Happy, and a few other names Banner and I gave him."

"Fury?"

"Plus someone named Wong. Did you get a hold of Clint?"

"Not yet."

The silence between them isn't uncomfortable, but it is resigned. This is their new reality, one of total chaos and uncertainty, rather than the semi-panicked urgency they'd been running on for the last two years. Natasha knows she hasn't processed any of it yet, just like she knows Steve is probably processing it too much.

That is why she feels like they need to check in.

There is a quiet knock on the door.

It's why she feels that 'they' includes Bruce.

"Come on in, Banner."

Steve turns to the door as it slides open and Dr. Bruce Banner shuffles inside the room, looking between the pair with the same timid energy he's always had. It makes Natasha somehow nostalgic and confused at the same time.

She wants desperately to ask him everything. Where he's been. Why he hadn't come back. But this still isn't the time.

"Everything going all right?"

"As well as can be expected. This place is crazy and that Shuri...wow. She is incredible."

They all know that now. That very young, genius girl who is now the heir apparent of this kingdom is holding herself together better than anyone should expect of her.

"So, uhm..." Bruce trails off as he crosses deeper into the room, still looking nervous.

"We thought maybe we all ought to debrief. A little."

"Debrief?"

Bruce is still such an ordinary person, if the incredulous tone is anything to go by. Natasha doesn't know how that's possible after all this time, but then this life feels bred into her.

"We don't need to go into too many details," Steve assures him, adopting that Captain America tone that Natasha thinks he doesn't even notice anymore. It's all instinct with him, some place he retreats to when it’s easier. He gestures for Bruce to sit in a chair, which he does, while Steve paces over to the edge of what looks like some kind of straw ottoman. "And we should focus -- for now -- on our current situation. You said Tony and this Doctor Strange went into space?"

"Yeah. Strange had one of the Infinity Stones around his neck. I think...I think that Spider-guy was probably with them, too."

Natasha's attention is on Steve for the moment because he brought up Tony Stark and it's so obvious to her what he's feeling.

This whole conversation is going to be a lot harder to manage than she thought.

"Spider-man. He’s pretty young. Tony recruited him a couple years ago, but that's all we really know. You said Strange is a...wizard?"

Natasha feels with sudden certainty that this is wrong. That this stilted, business-like conversation is wrong, that this dancing around the enormous elephants in the room is ridiculous. Bruce Banner has been missing for years. Thor hasn't checked in during all that time either. She and Steve have been on the run, haven’t seen or spoken to half the team. She couldn't find Clint anywhere and Tony Stark has gone missing en route to stop the evil alien who's defeated them.

This is wrong. She knows it.

"Hang on a second," she interrupts finally, turning from Steve to Bruce. "This isn't going to work like this. We need to _talk_ , not...debrief."


	5. Tony

Tony allows himself to be interested, deeply, in the Guardian's ship Nebula finds parked not too far away.

It's an incredible piece of technology and he recognizes it's not in the same class as the giant doughnut that had brought him to this planet. (The one he and Peter — _Christ, no_ —) He’s smart enough, too, to know that he might actually be able to figure this one out but that it was better, for now, to let Nebula drive.

She'd found what apparently amounts to a first aid kit and shoved a bottle of something he definitely doesn't recognize into his hands before moving over to the cockpit. Unlike the neat translator implant that helps him understand her, he can't read a word on this thing and he is half-certain it will kill him.

Which, he now vaguely remembers, he doesn't -- can't -- want.

_It was the only way._

There’s something there, something he still can’t get his brain to wrap around, but it’s okay. He has time to think. Later.

Sniffing at the bottle suspiciously, he carries it around while he paces the ship, poking and prodding at bits and pieces, his eyes falling on evidence of the people living on it. Quill and Drax and Mantis and others, he knew. God.

He stumbles as the ship suddenly roars to life.

"Whoa-hey! Warn a guy!"

"Sit down and strap yourself in."

Tony scrambles over to a seat, but he doesn't buckle the strap. He sits on the edge instead, watching Nebula. He can feel his heart beat too fast.

"I think we need to get clear about where we're going first, Blue Man Group."

Half of him doesn't want to leave, not with Peter's body...

Ash. Ash and dust on a dead world. Alone.

Hell, he hates this. He's never hated anything more.

Tony buries the feeling, knowing he'll pay for all this disassociation later. Hard. He's trying desperately to stimulate his own fight response because if he allows himself to breathe for one minute he'll fall apart. He can feel that too.

"We're going to your planet," she tells him flatly. "You need medical attention and I plan to take this ship elsewhere."

That isn't what he is expecting to hear and while he's glad that by some miracle, she wants to take him back home, he can't help his own trepidation.

"What do you mean, 'elsewhere?'"

"Thanos."

Tony doesn't need to wait for the alarm bells in his mind to ring. He pushes himself off the seat and slides into the one beside the alien instead.

“Hey, maybe we ought to hop off the irrational train here," he tells her urgently. "We just lost. Big time. What do you think you can do now? Alone?"

Nebula avoids looking at him, but he can tell she's listening. She's stubborn and a little bit disturbing and maybe in different circumstances he'd be a lot more interested in the why and the how and the what of her, but right now --

Right now they were stuck together. In the same boat. Pretty much literally. And he can't watch someone embark on a suicide mission. Again.

"All right," he says, breezily, sinking back into the co-pilot-y seat and popping open the bottle. "Chart a course for Earth, then. Gives us plenty of time to chat through this plan of yours."

"I don't want to chat."

"And I don't want to bleed out beside you, but occasionally someone up top gets my order mixed up. Let's dig in, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Let me know what you think so far. I've got quite a few more chapters written that just need another once-over before I start posting.


	6. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers start to clear the air.

"I don't have an answer for that, Natasha!"

Bruce has a wild look in his eyes and he's pacing by the door, agitation and nervous energy coming off him in waves. Steve is astonished to see there doesn't seem to be any hint of green.

Bruce is angry and the monster is dormant?

"Easy, Doctor."

He's standing now too, his hands up trying to calm Bruce down.

"No one blames you for leaving. Ultron was a lot. For everybody. We're just trying to get everyone on the same page now."

"Yeah, about that, Captain."

Bruce turns his attention on him now and Steve wonders immediately how they got here so quickly, the three of them squaring off. He recognizes desperation in Nat's stance too. Was this their team? Had he really broken the Avengers so badly they couldn't even have a conversation? Even when he was so grateful to see Bruce Banner _alive_ part of him just wanted to cry out in relief, to run up and embrace him, to find something good somewhere.

"What the hell _happened_? Tony said the Avengers broke up! How is that possible?"

Steve exchanges a look with Nat.

"It's complicated."

"Don't bullshit me."

There is a frenetic fire in Bruce Banner that didn't use to be there, like he's seen too much and Steve thinks he can attribute at least part of that to the same thing affecting everyone, to the despair that threatens every thought he has, but it's something else, too. His time in space. Something's happened to him, something to do with the fact that while Steve was wary about how upset the doctor was, he wasn't for once worried he might go green.

He has to do something. He has to stop thinking about his own losses, about the relentless, grim path he's taken. Nat is right. He needs to be a human being.

"Okay. _Okay_."

"Steve."

"Nat, it's fine."

He heaves a heavy sigh, his eyes on Bruce.

"It's my fault. We can go into it about the Sokovia Accords another time, but this thing with me and Stark -- it's on me."

Steve hurries the last part, wanting to cut off any protests Natasha might have. This isn't something they had really discussed, although he suspects she knows more than he's told her. But blaming this whole rift on the Accords was the easy way out and he didn't want to do that.

"What happened, Steve?"

Bruce's tone is gentler now, tired the way it should be. Steve relaxes a little, even if this is the last thing he wants to talk about.

"Long story short, after Ultron the UN put together the Sokovia Accords, this...agreement. That any specially powered people had to sign and register with in order to go about their daily lives. For us -- for the Avengers -- it meant that we would report to the UN for all assignments."

"That sounds -- registration?" Bruce looks shocked. "Geez, Cap. Kinda harsh. No wonder Tony --"

"He signed," Natasha interrupts him steadily, as though she knew that Bruce would make that mistake. Steve wonders if it's that obvious that things had gone so sideways back then. That people had expected him — _stalwart and loyal Captain America_ — to nod and say yes, sir to the government. That no one would have expected _party boy Tony Stark_ to let them put a leash on his own neck.

"He was the first. So did I, by the way." Natasha glances at him. "Steve didn't."

Bruce doesn't look like he believes her, but Steve just shakes his head.

"We don't need to go into who did what. Everyone had their reasons."

It seems like a lifetime ago, but Steve still finds it difficult when Tony's absence in his life now feels so large. He wishes fervently he knew where he is.

"What it boils down to is...Bucky."

He senses movement from Natasha beside him, but she seems to change her mind halfway through and instead she crosses over to Bruce and somehow manages to get him to sit down again, apparently without his thinking about it. The doctor's face is hard to look at -- he wears devastation openly, where Steve has been working hard to hide it.

"I'm so sorry, Steve."

He nods at him, not wanting to dismiss his sympathy. He hasn't given himself much allowance to grieve Bucky's loss. Or Sam's or Wanda's or Vision's. All of them -- they were still avoiding talking about their losses too directly.

It makes him think about Shuri and the loss of her brother and he hopes he has time to check in with her and with Okoye soon.

"While under HYDRA's influence, Bucky murdered Howard and Maria Stark."

Steve watches as understanding dawns on Bruce's face and he can picture the trajectory of his thoughts, the same that had run through his mind when he'd figured it out. The same shift of blame that ended in stalemate. A glance toward Nat's face tells him what he already knows; that she had worked it out herself, that she feels the same.

"God, no wonder..."

Bruce seems to be taking it in and Steve figures he's in it already, so he may as well go on.

"We fought. Dragged a lot of people into it with us. It was...not good. And ever since, we've been on the run. Me and Nat. And Bucky, Sam, and Wanda." His voice is steady and he pushes past the grief; he's a soldier, he can handle it. "Vision and Rhodey stayed with Tony at the compound you saw -- Tony's been the public face of the Avengers, guarding the world -- mainly with the suits -- in the light while we take care of it from the shadows."

Nat's face is thoughtful as she watches him and he shrugs a little, looking away. Putting words to the unspoken agreement between himself and Tony is different, but he knew it isn't imagined. Tony is probably still justifiably angry with him, but he could have easily tracked him down, tried to put a stop to their missions. Turned them in. He never did. And Steve is certain he has been just as aware of Vision and Wanda's tryst as he is.

They worked together. Just...not together anymore.

"We recruited Scott Lang, alias Ant-Man, during all this." Natasha speaks up now, a little more clinically. Steve hastily pushes back the thoughts about Tony and the worry about the man that was starting to overwhelm him. "But he and Clint both have families, so they took a deal with the government. T'Challa --"

Her voice wavers here and Steve picks up the thread.

"King T'Challa lost his father during the summit about the Accords. He ended up part of the fight as well as that kid Tony found."

"Spider-Man." Bruce nods. Steve can almost see the gears turning.

The door suddenly opens and Steve is on edge and he knows Nat is too. Weapons are drawn immediately before they recognize Thor.

He relaxes, his eyes on the Asgardian.

"I've been eavesdropping for the past few minutes," Thor admits, his booming voice pitched low in the more confined space. "I thought I'd ask if I may simply...join you."

Steve gives him a nod in the affirmative and he watches while Nat and Bruce both rise, ushering him in. Bruce in particular seems pleased to see him, reaching out to clap the larger man on the arm.

Thor smiles fleetingly at them before he continues, far more gravely.

"Pepper is in the atrium with the general. Wong refused to come and the others..."

Thor trails off. They knew what he meant.

Steve doesn't want the uncomfortable silence to settle, so he looks between them all.

"Well, come sit, Thor. We're playing catch-up. Something tells me you've had an intense couple of years too."


	7. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things might not be so simple on the Benetar.

Tony's grip on the wheel tightens as they make the wide turn around space debris, brilliant colors splashed on one side of space, indicating what he was sure was a star and a system and something definitely very interesting he wanted to stare at for a long time.

But this is fine, too. Co-piloting a spaceship with an alien species while listening to a genuinely great mix of tunes. Who would have imagined?

"So this party isn't really your bag, then," he says finally when they are upright again, glancing over at Nebula. He is feeling physically a little better, having downed the Bottle of Unknown Substances, and he has more than warmed to the conversation with his traveling companion. Maybe even moreso given she seems reluctant, but not entirely unwilling.

He can work with that.

"I'm not built for parties."

Tony smiles at that sort-of-not-really-self-deprecating-joke. It's a lazy, slightly giggly smile as he reclines in the chair with a hand on the wheel. It's definitely going to destroy him later, how very much he's not letting himself think about It. But that's okay. Right now, this -- poking at an android and learning about the universe firsthand -- is sufficiently interesting enough to distract and he is nothing if not the king of self-distraction.

Self-destruction? Distraction. Deflection. Connection.

Something. He is fairly sure Pep called him out on one or five of those.

Whoops. Not the line of thought he wants. He feels a little giddy.

"Bet I can fix that."

"I would be careful what you threaten, Nano-Man."

" _Iron_ Man. I can guarantee you there's nothing nano about --"

"Try to remain upright. I can't stand the stench of bile."

Tony hasn't noticed he's pretty much hanging off the side of his chair until she points it out. He shifts back to a sort of normal position and eyes Nebula.

"How does that work for you, anyway?" Tony cocks his head. "Not the fun-bits part, the organic, smell-things, breathe-things part."

Nebula hesitates before responding and Tony wonders, not for the first time, why she hasn't done more to shut him up. It always intrigues him when people who are very clearly not pushovers...don't. It makes them interesting. Or at the very least it makes him curious, if only to know who won't be in his way, somewhere down the line. It's a wavelength thing, not an ego thing. Efficiency.

"I am organic," she replies. "Thanos has just torn out and replaced several parts of me."

Tony sees pain in her otherwise unsettling eyes and it makes him a bit uneasy. Or maybe that's just the odd wave of dizziness he's feeling and determinedly ignoring.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not always."

Huh.

"What is in your chest?"

She's looking at him now, the quiet stretch of space allowing them both the opportunity to sniff and scratch at each other.

"I call it an arc reactor," he answers. "Produces a current...powers the suit, mainly."

"And you?"

"Used to." Tony shrugs it off. "Had a palladium problem, but then, you know, you start digging around the attic, find out your dad’s definitely more of a genius than you’d even thought and maybe even not a _total_ asshole and poof, there it goes —"

"Everyone says Terra isn't advanced enough for space travel, but your understanding of mechanics seems sufficient.

Pfft. Sufficient. Tony smiles again, fingers drumming on the wheel.

"I'm a smidge smarter than most," he says, totally humbly. "Good ole Earth has its issues, I'll grant you that. Can't seem to agree on anything, actual advancement gets tangled up in rules and wars and pissing contests. But technologically speaking..."

He lets the implication settle, his mind wandering first to politics and then to Cap and then to the ridiculous burner phone Steve had left him and God, what the hell was that about, anyway? And Bruce! He fell out of the sky! And there are wizards now! Dying, self-sacrificing wizards. And crap, he needs to make a new dinner reservation. He needs to call Pepper. Get FRIDAY back online, tap into his systems. And what happened, down on Earth? Where was everybody? Was anyone even --

"You should try to rest, Stark."

Tony blinks, suddenly aware he's sunk down again, his brain firing neurons haphazardly, the subjects in his brain jumbling together in extremely non-orderly fashion, the thoughts he'd wanted to avoid. Which didn't happen. He thought quickly, made leaps others couldn't. But he didn't think randomly.

"What the--"

"Medicine," she grunts, her expression wary as she looks him over. “It might affect you differently than Quill."

"Ho, wha?" Tony is sure nothing she says makes sense after 'medicine.' "Translator malfunction," he mumbles at her, his eyes wide.

Nebula rises and reaches over, hefting Tony up on the chair and pulling the straps down securely over his body. He doesn't fight her, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to his brain.

"You may not have much time."

She settles back into her chair and he watches as the controls on his side power down. There's a roaring in his ears, but he sort of likes it. He lets his head fall back and he feels like he's floating.

Which he is. Because of the space thing and all.


	8. Thor

Recounting the loss of his planet and the subsequent loss of half of his people makes him feel numb and surreal, and Thor suspects it's because in the face of all that has occurred, all they -- _he_ \-- had failed to do, it is almost small.

That is an absurd thought, but he holds to it, preferring to focus on the problems in front of him, the ones affecting his friends more than he. The ones that did not involve his complicated feelings regarding his brother and all of his regrets.

They are his friends, he remembers. His team. His allies. He has almost forgotten what that feels like, what it had been like only a few years ago when he had chosen to remain on Midgard with the Avengers and they had worked together to eradicate what remained of HYDRA. Until Stark's reckless behavior had nearly got them all killed.

It's odd to think about now. He holds no grudge against Tony Stark and indeed remains impressed by the man's genius. He never said as much to him -- his ego didn’t require cossetting, after all -- but he feels regret and loss and grief in not knowing where Iron Man is or whether he is alive.

"So you met Strange too."

Bruce is cross-legged on the bed, leaning slightly towards him with that look of keen interest, the scientist in him. He appears calmer than Thor has seen him of late, but this, he knows, is illusion. Beside him, sort of, is Natasha, who's taken the corner of the bed, her posture tense and her face thoughtful. Thor imagines it a strange tale to hear, the expanse of space and where her estwhile lover has been for years.

Captain Rogers appears small on the ottoman near the window, but older, too. He has never had an especially sunny demeanor, but Thor wonders if it is not only this tragedy they face, but this rift with Stark that has led him to these grayer lines.

"Yes. Before I found you on Sakaar, Loki and I traveled to Midgard to find our father. Strange captured Loki and trapped him in another dimension until we came to an agreement. He claimed himself protector of this realm."

Steve and Natasha exchange looks at that.

"How exactly does that work? Why don't we know about him?"

"It's magic," Banner answers for him, for which he is grateful, as he does not believe he has the answers Natasha seeks. His view of technology is different from humans, he knows. "He controls energies. Creates disruptions in physics and reality, all based in what's essentially eastern mysticism. But it's real."

He sounds very certain. Natasha looks surprised. Thor notices then how exhausted Banner appears, and he remembers to worry about him too.

"If you of all people say --"

"How are you handling all this, Bruce?" He asks, interrupting Steve. "Your perception of time must be very difficult."

"What does that mean?" Asks Natasha.

Banner looks uncomfortable, but he answers her. 

"He means how...well. He didn't explain this part, so I will. He found me on Sakaar, yeah, but it was Hulk. Just Hulk. And had been for years. After -- after Ultron, I never, uh, came back."

There is stunned silence from the other humans. 

"Yeah," Banner fills in, awkwardly, looking around at the others, his hand going up to scratch his head. "I don't...remember much, from all that time. So it's sorta been a really long, awful weekend."

Thor gives him a sympathetic look. "I do not envy you, my friend. To come straight from Ultron to finding out you were kept in captivity to the fight for my people to this..."

Natasha has reached a hand out, laying still on Banner's knee. The man does not object and it seems Steve wishes to distract from the fact, if the speed of his next words mean anything.

"I think that's enough sharing for now, for all of us," he says quietly. "We should focus on the present."

There are nods all around. 

"Thor --" Thor looks at him. "Do you plan to stay, or do you need to go find your people?"

The question feels tentative, uncertain, as though Steve does not wish to sound selfish. Thor appreciates the fact that he has perspective enough to see beyond his own losses. It is a mark of a great leader.

"I intend to stay," he answers readily, having already considered his options. "My people are in good hands and prepared for the worst. If nothing of the plan has changed, they are already headed this way. If you've no objection, I wish to help ensure Midgard's stability."

"No objections here," Steve answers, what appears to be almost a smile on his face. It makes him look more like Thor remembers, despite the facial hair. "I think for now, we'll work best from here in Wakanda as long as Shuri is okay with having us. Bruce can work the lab, Natasha, Colonel Rhodes, and I can get a start on the...politics."

"Sounds thrilling," Natasha says dryly. "We might run into a lot of problems on that front, Steve. We're both still wanted people."

"You will be welcome," Thor intones. "From what I've gathered while traveling, help in any form would be better than what people are left with."

He knows his words are not comforting, but they are reality. 

"All right. Before we split up and get back to work, there's one more thing I want to discuss."

Steve looks from Thor to Natasha to Bruce.

"We need to find out what happened to Tony."

There is a brief moment where Thor feels the four of them must all be thinking the same thing. Certainly their faces all reflect one another.

"How?" Natasha asks finally, glancing at Thor.

"The Bifrost is not the all-seeing eye for me that it was for Heimdall," Thor explains apologetically. He is not quite certain he can travel as he pleases anyway, the power still new to him. 

"Strange," Bruce says excitedly. "He can travel dimensions, maybe he can bring them back."

"Strange is dead."

Banner's face falls, his hands going up to scratch through his hair.

"Wong told me he could feel it, and I believe him."

"Maybe Tony can figure it out. Space travel. He got there; he could come back."

"Steve..."

The Captain looks wary at Natasha's tone, but she presses on. 

"We have a lot of people here on Earth to worry about. More to track down, too. I know it's not what any of us wants, but if we don't even know where to start for Tony -- if we don't even know if he's _alive_..."

"We shouldn't waste our energy or resources," Steve finishes for her, his voice dull. He sighs. "You're not wrong."

It sounds to Thor as though he does not care much for that fact. He understands the sentiment, although he has buried much of his worry over his own people.

"I think we'll all feel a lot...well, not better, but you know...whatever...if we get moving. Momentum and all. Plus we've got a very young world leader and a lot of grieving people to look out for."

It's Banner again making the suggestion and Thor finds himself less surprised this time, knowing that the man is running on desperation, like he is. 

"Banner is right," he says aloud, rising to his feet as he geared up to motivate the others. "We have much to do. We're the _Avengers_ , are we not?"

He looks at Banner when Natasha and Steve just look at each other.

"Let's go help some people."


	9. Shuri & Rocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out for each of them, four of the six original members of a broken team, helping people begins in conversation.

_Shuri_

"I do not want to lead."

Shuri is grateful for a moment to breathe because she is certain she has been too close to tears for too long. Having Okoye by her side in this is a comfort, but the general is too good at masking her emotions and right now, that is intimidating.

But even she is surprised that is not the case with the Black Widow.

"It's normal to feel that way, Shuri. And I know you know it's okay to miss your brother."

Natasha takes a drink from the glass Shuri offered her when they walked in. They are sitting together at a table in her suite and while Shuri wishes she could be alone to grieve, she simultaneously wishes that she is never alone again. She is terrified of the thought, of not knowing what might happen when she does not have her eyes on anyone.

"He spoke highly of you," she tells Natasha, remembering too easily to use the past tense. "He did not do that often."

"He strikes me as the reserved type," Natasha replies. "Probably why I liked him."

Shuri smiles at this, her thoughts lingering on T'Challa and the King he had become. She is so proud of him.

"You and the rest of the Avengers are welcome as long as you need," she adds, wanting to steer away from wallowing in those thoughts. It’s why she’s grateful for the presence of the Avengers, even when she senses they all seem to share some guilt over wishing to remain in Wakanda.

She understands. Their base is not the stronghold it once was, particularly without the likes of Tony Stark. She understands that Wakanda is, frankly, the world’s best hope.

"For now, we are dividing responsibility. M'Baku assures me he is prepared to handle our nation's recovery. I trust him in this, and that allows me to assist you."

Natasha's smile is a little thin and Shuri suspects she's concerned. Perhaps because of her age.

"We don't want to run Wakanda to the ground," Natasha says, confirming the thought. "You've already been incredibly generous."

"My brother wished to bring Wakanda to the forefront," Shuri tells her, a little more passionately than she intends. "Now the world needs us more than ever. I will not allow us to turn away from that responsibility."

And it's true. She realizes that now, maybe for the first time. That unnameable thing that has been motivating her since Okoye shook her back to consciousness to tell her of the horrors that have happened. Why she has not yet collapsed, not yet been willing to yield her time.

T'Challa's mission to make Wakanda better — to forge a new destiny — that is what she admired the most. And if she is to rule in his stead, it is no question at all. She must carry out that mission.

* * *

_Rocket_

The obnoxiously loud knock has to be coming from only one person and it's for the best, because Rocket is pretty sure he's ready to blast anyone else who might come through that door.

"Come on in, Thor. I'm decent."

By decent, he means he's clothed now. He has finally had the chance to shower and he's pulled on his own clothes again, having decided that whatever the Terrans had given him was just too ridiculous and loose-fitting.

Although he likes the beads their Princess passed him. He expects he’ll be fiddling with that tech for a good while.

The Asgardian lets himself in and Rocket gets a good look at the eye he'd given him before plopping himself down unceremoniously on the bed.

"Pretty nice digs, I gotta say."

"The Wakandans have treated you well so far, I hope?" Thor doesn't sit, which seems typical of the overgrown god. He wanders by the big window instead.

"Weirdly enough, yeah," Rocket answers him. "Who knew Terrans actually had manners? Always suspected Quill was a dud."

"This place is not like many others," Thor replies -- a little cryptically, Rocket thinks. He's watched this guy go suicidal over an axe and subsequently tear up a battlefield. He's really not sure what to think about him.

Except that he knows he is hurting, that he's lost everything. Rocket wonders if being on this planet changes that thought for him. He looks a little more at home than Rocket expected.

"So what's the skinny from your friends?" He asks. "Anyone else we need to locate?"

The mission that Rogers gave them is interesting, at least, and it will keep him busy. Terran technology leaves a lot to be desired and Rocket prefers that challenge over...everything else.

"Yes, we will need to head back out soon," Thor promises. "But I wish to speak with you first."

"No need to be so grandiose," Rocket tells him, his scowl masking his wariness. "What's up?"

"Your friends," Thor intones. "The ones we left on your ship. Your crew."

 _His family_. Rocket doesn't correct Thor out loud, but he can't help his thoughts. He sighs.

"My bet is that Quill tried to sack Gamora on the head to convince her _not_ to take the suicide mission and the four of them are flying around clueless and fighting each other. As usual."

Thor's face is grave at his words and Rocket almost regrets saying them for a moment, not knowing what the big man is going to say.

"I fear you must prepare yourself for the worst, Rocket."

No 'Rabbit,' then. Rocket says nothing.

"I will help you locate your ship," Thor continues. "But considering the damage we have seen here on Earth, we cannot assume anything."

He's using the Terran word. Rocket remembers Thor referring to this planet as 'Midgard' before, and most everyone else he knows calls it Terra. Only Quill calls it Earth, and even then, not always.

"Look," He begins, bracing himself. "You may be all about the doom and gloom of these parts, but me? I'm not about to wring my hands over stuff I don't know. You don't know the Guardians. We survive. That's just what we do."

Except Groot.

Rocket suddenly feels sick, thinking about Groot. How he called out to him, terrified.

_"Dad."_

There are real tears threatening to overtake him again. He holds them back defiantly.

Thor turns to him and Rocket recognizes a painful empathy in his face. It reminds him of Yondu, somehow, and Rocket has to force himself to stay in control.

"I believe you; your people seem hardy and valiant."

"That's right."

Thor smiles. "Come. Let's commandeer another hovercraft."


	10. Okoye & Rhodes & Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out for each of them, four of the six original members of a broken team, helping people begins in conversation.
> 
> And life keeps moving.

_Okoye_

The bookish American man is wandering where he does not belong, below the main parts of the palace, far from the hustle and bustle of the triage.

Okoye follows him silently at first, studying his movement and his direction. What mission has Captain Rogers given him? What is he searching for? She knows the Avengers operate autonomously, that that is the rift her King had found himself embroiled in year ago, at the start of his reign. They may have their own agenda here, one they have not shared. Perhaps he is looking for a way to fulfill it.

It becomes clear to her all too quickly that the man is very lost.

"If you are looking for a place to relieve yourself, you will have better luck upstairs."

She steps out of the shadows, arching an eyebrow when he spins around, wild-eyed and frantic.

"Geez!" His arms open, his posture defensive. It is clear to her she truly startled him, and she knows he is not faking his confusion.

"No — I just. I wanted to find some, you know. Space."

Okoye's expression is skeptical.

"I get claustrophobic."

That is a lie, or at least it is not the whole truth. But Okoye relents her fierce demeanor because she can determine a civilian when she sees one.

She doesn't wish for the isolation of Wakanda any longer; she is more used to the oddities of other cultures and the diplomacy and nuance required. These people -- the Avengers and all who come with them are familiar to her, similar in motivation to T'Challa.

In different circumstances, she imagines many in depth conversations, the need to satisfy curiosities. But now all she sees is her duty to Shuri and her country.

"Are you okay?"

She gives the man — Banner, she remembers — a surprised look.

"Obviously not," he backtracks. There is an odd energy about him. "But I mean...you know, physically. You haven't stopped since we got back up here."

"I will rest when my leader rests."

She's referring to Shuri, whom she cannot yet call Queen, but whose title as Princess is not quite accurate anymore.

"Figured as much," Banner mumbles. "But do you have, I don't know, an apple or something?"

Okoye doesn't understand why he appears so keen.

"Dr. Banner —"

"I'm sorry," he interrupts. "When you're around a bunch of people who just don't take care of themselves, you tend to start mother-henning. I'm sure you don't need to hear it from me."

He sounds frustrated and self-deprecating.

"And what about you?" She asks. "Have you taken care of yourself?"

"Well, despite tripping on my face, that suit really keeps you well-protected. I'm all right."

"Should I leave you alone to recover?" She asks. Her face is steady when he gives her a bewildered look. She's surprised him this time, she knows. But she can tell that he had come away from the work upstairs to seek something. She simply does not know what.

"There are healing spaces," she tells him. "Beyond the medical facilities and the lab you've become accustomed to upstairs. If you need something..."

"And what if I don't know what I need right now?" He asks, stepping up to her. There is almost a threat in his demeanor, though he does not wear such an attitude well. "What if I can't possibly know -- what if it's dangerous for me to even try?"

He appears very calm, but Okoye senses he is frayed.

"Your other self did not appear on the battlefield, Dr. Banner. In controlled circumstances—"

"I don't think you get exactly how uncontrolled the Hulk is."

"Are you not curious as to why you cannot summon him?"

She looks at him pointedly, knowing she does not need to explain her understanding of his problem. Everyone in the world does indeed know who Bruce Banner was. An Avenger. The Hulk. Gone missing, presumed dead. Celebrated and honored. The fact that the great green monster did not come out on the battlefield, leaving the otherwise unassuming man inside of a Stark suit to fight had been obvious to her and to many others.

Banner backs away and shuffles a little, clearly agitated.

"Of course I'm curious," he says eventually. "But running tests right now is, frankly, low priority, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," she agrees. "But perhaps it isn't tests you need."

Banner looks at her and she recognizes the same look she sees in Shuri every now and then. That of a scientist, weighing their options.

"These...healing spaces."

She gives him a curt nod.

"Not exactly an apple."

"Were you hungry?"

"Not even a little."

If nothing else, she's stopped the man's wandering. Okoye is taking wins where she can find them.

* * *

_Rhodes_

Rhodes can't stand the look on Pepper's face, but he guesses that his reflects the same. If he's worried, terrified, close to tears...it only makes sense so is she.

He's really glad Thor brought her here. They've had the chance now to grieve Happy's loss, and so many others. To begin to digest the devastation around them. He's a soldier enough to know to keep it together and she -- she's stronger than anyone he knows.

They're in a laboratory right now and weirdly enough, even though he's not exactly a scientist, he feels more comfortable in here than anywhere else he's seen in Wakanda.

Jesus, this place. One of these days he really needs to have a sit down chat with one of the locals.

But maybe it's the tech. He's savvy enough to see that it's even more advanced than Tony's lab, though not by too much (or maybe he's just biased and loyal, so sue him). But knowing Tony as long as he has, standing by his best friend's side for so long, these kind of spaces felt like home.

He hopes it's the same for Pepper.

"I can't believe this place," she says softly, looking around as various Wakandans put to use all the equipment.

"I know, right?" He says lightly. “Crazy advanced."

He doesn't add what almost comes to his tongue, that Tony would love it, would break things and poke things. That he suspects he'd respect Shuri.

He doesn't want to bring him up.

Of course, he doesn't always get what he wants.

"Rhodey, Pepper?"

Steve Rogers has come up to them. He and Natasha had disappeared a while ago, but Rhodes hadn't minded. After fieldwork, he'd needed to get checked out himself and then Pepper had arrived.

"Steve. Hi."

Pepper sounds both tentative and hopeful and she pauses only briefly before she steps toward Captain America, pulling him in for an embrace. Steve's guarded expression softens and he glances briefly at Rhodes before pulling back.

"Hey," he says. "I'm glad you're here."

"It's a good look," she tells him, gesturing to his beard. Rhodes smirks slightly when Steve looks embarrassed.

"Thanks," he says awkwardly. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you both."

"What's up, Cap?"

Rhodes doesn't feel any animosity toward Captain America. His feelings about the Accords are mixed and neither he nor Tony had ever agreed with the government's decision to brand the man a fugitive. But they'd been on technically opposing sides for a while now. It was good not to be.

"It's about...Tony," he says immediately. Pepper beats him to responding.

"We were on a call," she tells him clearly. Her level of professionalism never ceases to amaze him and he's worried she might crash because of it. "After that ship attacked New York, I called him. He told me he was on the ship, but we got disconnected. About a second later, FRIDAY lost his signal too, but his vitals were good, and I had her run likely trajectories, just to get an idea..."

Steve looks relieved.

"You're amazing, Pepper," he tells her, shifting his weight slightly. "Look, with everything going on, everyone's pretty focused on the here and now. But I want to bring Tony home."

Rhodes doesn't want to be this guy, but he thinks maybe he has to be. He's only ever seen this side of Steve once before and that had ended in a pretty bad way.

"You sure that's something we can even do?"

He avoids Pepper's gaze, steadily watching Steve instead.

"I don't know. But you've seen the technology in this place. Plus we've got Thor now."

"But if we don't even know where to start looking—"

"He's not mad at you, Steve."

Pepper interrupts him just as Steve was starting to look more like he was itching for a debate. The man almost immediately deflates at her words — which is saying something, considering the bulk he's put on.

"I just want to make it right," he says solemnly. "We need him here."

"I agree," Pepper replies briskly. "But if anyone's going to get Tony back to Earth, it's going to be Tony."

She's not wrong, and that woman has been through hell and back with Stark.

"Focus on what we know," she suggests, reaching a hand out to Steve, guiding him to take a seat. He does, looking like he just lost a fight. Rhodes doesn't know what's going through his head.

"We know Tony and a man called Stephen Strange were on that ship," Steve says slowly. "Strange had one of the stones, so my best guess is Tony got caught up trying to extract him." He pauses thoughtfully. "Bruce thinks that Spider-man might have been with them, too."

“What?" Rhodes looks quickly over to Pepper, whose alarm matches his.

"Oh, God," she says, reaching a hand up to the tech in her ear. "FRIDAY, call May."

Steve looks questioningly at Rhodes while Pepper makes her call.

"Spider-man's just a kid," he tells him. “Teenager. Peter Parker, from Queens. Lives with his aunt. Tony's been..." He shrugs. "Let's just say Tony's taken an interest. But I'm telling you, there's no way he would have let him come willingly. Not with how protective he's got lately. Hopefully Pepper can confirm that."

The look on her face when she finishes the call doesn't, and Rhodes finds himself wishing for a break. Anywhere.

"May's alive," Pepper tells them. "She says Peter never came home from a field trip yesterday."

"Which means he never left the fight," Steve concludes. "And probably joined Tony on the ship."

Which is better news, Rhodes supposes, then May telling them that Peter was one of the ones who disappeared.

"Tony deployed a new suit," Pepper nods. "Meant for Peter."

"At Tony's side is a safe place to be," Steve says. Rhodes thinks he's taking it far, this guilt of his. Considering.

"Thanos has all the stones, Steve," Rhodes says quietly. "That means they failed."

They all know this. But they're dancing around it. And Steve's expression is resolute.

"I know he's alive."

Pepper's face, this time, isn't as controlled as she's been. There is quiet devastation in her eyes at Steve's words and Rhodes knows better than to share her secret, but he feels for her. God, he feels for her.

"What can we do?"

He wants Steve Rogers' conviction. He wants to feel so certain of something he wants so desperately.

It's a long time before Steve says anything, and Rhodes takes in the silence of their little group, here in the lab while everyone else is busy, working, moving. He looks up when the Captain moves.

"What about a flare?" Rhodes gives him an odd look before he elaborates. "Something to help...mark us, somehow. Make sure he knows where he's going. Make the Earth as obvious a target as possible."

In any other circumstance, Rhodes thinks he might slap Steve right in the face at that kind of suggestion. But given what's happened and what they're trying to do...

"If we're assuming Tony's figured out how to hijack an alien spaceship, which I'm guessing we are..."

It wasn't in the scheme of things a far-fetched notion at all.

"You want to make it easy for him to spot us. I'll do you one better. You know Rocket?"

Steve nods, though Pepper looks confused and Rhodes remembers he'll have to explain who and kind of what Rocket is to Pepper later.

"He says his crew flies around picking up distress signals. That he’s already planning to send some up to draw them in."

There's a sudden, loud klaxon filling up the lab. Bodies are running all in one direction. Rhodes exchanges a look with Steve at the alarm, wondering what the hell else they could possibly face right now and trying to think of where he can take Pepper.

"It's a ship!"

Shuri has bound out of nowhere, Natasha close behind. She glances at him and Steve and they all -- Pepper included -- follow.

Because what else can they do?

"Something's probing the barrier," Natasha tells them as they hurry to the atrium. "Something massive."

Rhodes looks at Pepper, knowing she's thinking the same thing.

Jesus, Tony. Way to make an entrance.

But when they've assembled in the wide space, the great windows their only shield against the expanse of Wakanda, it's a booming voice that rises above all others.

"It's Asgard!"

* * *

_Pepper_

Pepper hangs back while the Wakandans and heroes make plans to meet the Asgardian ship on the field. It's nice to watch Thor — whom she hasn't seen in years, who looks different than she remembers — leap around with joy. It's a contrast to the sorrow in the air.

She thinks about the logistics of this. How to explain away to the rest of the grieving world why this ship isn't one to bring heartache. What will the story be? How did you tell modern, human society to embrace the return of Nordic gods?

It's because of who she is and what she does that she busies herself with the minutiae of that question. Putting out extraordinary fires, explaining away the impossible, handling the press with a firm hand and a perfect story — that's been a part of her job description for a very long time. Since long before Tony Stark became Iron Man.

Oh, Tony. Where are you?

"I really thought it was gonna be him."

Steve Rogers has found her and she's a little surprised again. She'd watched him step forward, ever the leader, dividing up responsibilities and prioritizing what was important. She's always admired him, his quiet strength, and knows Tony does too. That was why they butted heads so often, why Tony's been so stubborn about reaching out.

But she knows how close he keeps the phone.

"Me too," she admits to Steve, but presses on, "But I'm happy for Thor."

"He's been through hell lately."

"We all have."

"He's really not mad?"

There is something in Steve's tone she's never heard before and his face, once almost youthful, idealistic, even green — he's older now, wiser and sadder and she wishes things hadn't had to go the way they had. As much as she hates the danger involved, hates how it almost took Tony away from her again and again...she misses the days the Avengers had been together.

She takes her time before answering him. The truth is Tony is Tony, and pissed or not, he's still never going to let anyone know how he feels. Not really.

Except her. She knows she's the exception and has been for so long.

"Has he ever asked you about his father?"

Steve frowns slightly, tilting his head as he looks at her.

"No — I mean, not in any serious way."

It doesn't surprise her, but it does make her sigh. It's clearly not something Steve has considered, but it's something Tony's talked to her about a lot over the years, especially since he's started dealing with his problems head on. But it's a side of himself he prefers not to let bleed into his 'work,' she supposes. No matter how curious he is, having someone who knew his father back then in his life.

"Tony's always looked up to you, Steve," she tells him quietly. "Only moreso after he actually met you. I can't be the one to tell you how he feels about this...fight you're in. I don't have any comforting words."

Pepper looks the Captain squarely in the face.

"When we get him back, you can ask him yourself."


	11. Nebula

"You're going to kill us both!"

Nebula has one hand on a quad blaster and the other on the wheel because Stark has shot the autopilot function and the ship is careening violently off course.

She made a mistake, she knows, giving the Terran that medicine. She'd been trying to do him a kindness -- this only proved how foolish kindness is.

He'd dozed off for a few minutes before abruptly waking and stumbling to the washroom. Nebula had ignored him, grateful not to have to converse. He is too inquisitive for her liking, too interested. She doesn't trust it.

But she wishes she'd paid attention because now he's barricaded himself below deck, surfacing only to hurl weaponry in every direction before ducking away. In addition to the autopilot, he's managed to hit navigation, half of the seats, storage, and the tape deck, leaving it to replay the same upbeat song again and again.

She's very concerned about the air supply.

"I just wanted to show you what I made."

There he is. Stark's head is poking out from below and he's muttering to himself again. She can see his eyes are unfocused, but his disorientation does nothing to lessen her alarm; Stark may well be dying, burning out, and hallucinating out of his mind, but it hasn't stopped him from fiddling with Rocket's not inconsiderable stash of tech.

"Actually, it's not DUM-E-point-two if you'd just -- would you stop, please? Please look?"

"Stark!" She barks at him, ship angling sharply.

“Shh," he hushes, turning toward her. He's set something off; she hears it skittering around the cabin as she rights the ship again. "We oughtta deploy some parachutes."

"I swear I will tear you apart."

"Maybe a care package? Think that's too much? Granted, I was away at MIT when I was his age, but I feel like I would’ve killed for a little box’o’ramen."

Nebula thinks she should just kill him; it would be much easier. Although it was not quite easy at this moment because she needs to steer the ship and every bit of attention she gives the Terran takes it away from that goal.

Well. With the navigation on the fritz, she doesn't know where to go anyway. She quickly slows the ship down so that she can deal with the man.

Once she's able to leave her seat, she raises the blaster, pointing it toward him.

"Oh, I wouldn't."

He's grinning at her and she has only a few seconds' warning before she feels something ricochet off the glass behind her and bounce at her back. She ducks and it narrowly misses her head, but latches onto the floor.

She sees a blinking light and immediately dives forward, rolling toward Stark.

There is a loud bang and smoke and Nebula is certain they're both dead. She twists around so she can strangle Stark herself for his idiocy, but when she turns to him he's giddy, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Decoy," he assures her before he starts coughing, the smoke -- thankfully that's all it is, rather than gas -- starts to fill his lungs. She doesn't know what he means, except that perhaps he hasn't just blown a hole in the ship.

“What was that for?" she asks him, lifting herself back up to stand and not expecting a reply. The smoke hasn't cleared, so she moves over to open up some ventilation, send it elsewhere.

Stark is still hacking away, which fortunately means he may be less likely to cause trouble. She crosses back over to hauls him up to the bridge and onto one of the passenger seats. He protests, seemingly out of reflex.

"Pep will have words," he says more coherently, looking up at her, though his gaze is distant. Nebula again wishes she could just get rid of him, but as the thought crosses her mind, she's reminded too powerfully of the events that had just transpired.

Life is precious. Her sister had known that, had worked so hard to prevent all this from happening.

She wants to honor that, honor her, and that means taking this path. One where she didn't just kill a dying man because he is extremely inconvenient.

"Please shut up," she tells him instead, barely registering his nonsense now as she straps him into the chair. She's too rough with him and one of his sleeves tears off. He doesn't appear to mind, his attention falling to his own chest where the glow of the reactor pulses.

Or maybe his head is just lolling. She frowns, crouching down to him. He startles suddenly and starts struggling against the straps, his eyes wide, panicked.

“We got one chance! I have to call—" He gasps, the words rough in his abused throat as he flails against her. "The phone, please -- I need him!"

Nebula places an arm against his chest and her free hand over his wrist, holding him down until he stills.

"Stark," she barks at him. "Focus. You must calm down."

Which might be asking a lot. He's running hot, his blood pressure is rising, his heart rate far too high, too unstable for a human. It's not just the wound that's killing him. She doesn't know what to do.

"S'cloudy," he mumbles at her. "Interstellar. Fog. Kinda poetic, but it doesn’t make sense. How’s that come around through translation?"

While she still doesn't know what he's talking about, this seems better because at least he's not shouting at people who aren't there.

"Just...stay put," she tells him, pulling back. She's satisfied she's tied him down enough for now and will keep an eye on him. She turns to assess the cockpit and the damage he's done.

It is extensive.

"FRIDAY, what are we dealing with?"

He's not talking to her -- she can tell that much -- but when she glances back in his direction, he is staring at her with an intensity she is not expecting.

"Well?"

Perhaps she is wrong.

"Damage to navigational systems," she tells him, although she does not think it will register. Stark looks as though he is considering her words very carefully, but he winces suddenly, his gaze losing focus again.

She wants to give him something else to make him sleep, but she is wary of messing further with the Terran and medication. As she turns her attention away from him, he speaks up.

"Run a scan," he says, the words a distant command. It would rankle her, but he is so pathetic she does not care.

"Terra is not advanced enough--"

"Just do it."

She ignores him, but he seems undeterred.

Stark begins to recite numbers, breathlessly and without pause. It's clear to her how exhausted he is -- she can hear it in his voice -- and she is surprised he has not passed out again. It takes longer for her to recognize the string of incoherence as coordinates, but she takes a chance and dials them in.

"It's gotta be Wakanda," he breaks the muttering before adding another string of numbers that make no sense.

Stark gasps suddenly and Nebula looks back at him uneasily, her hands on the wheel again as the Guardian's ship roars back to life. She turns back and scans for a signal using the coordinates and to her surprise, the ship recognizes distress.

She prepares the ship to jump -- they are only a few systems away -- but as it powers up, an alarm sounds before the engine hisses and dies.

Nebula curses under her breath and spins out of the chair to check what's happened. She passes Stark, whose head has rolled back and his eyes closed.

"Shhh," he says softly, without opening his eyes. “Use me."

She's learned not to dismiss his rambling out of hand.

"What do you mean?"

His head rolls forward, hanging over his chest -- hanging over the glowing piece stuck there.


End file.
